Hello, My Name Is -
by 2theSky
Summary: CLU's on his way to Argon, and he's bringing a secret weapon to take down Tron. There's just one tiny problem- his secret weapon isn't... working quite right...
1. Hello, My Name Is

Dark.

Something about the dark… the dank and dampened corners seeping in mystery…

CLU grinned sickly. It made some sort of cruel sense; the darkness held his perfection. He just had to seek it out. And that he was doing. He hunted it down, chasing down and destroying any shred of light that blocked his voyage into the darkness.

He glanced over his shoulder as his ship neared the faint lights of Argon, his smile fading. That one light spot wasn't burning out; true, it had flickered, but it was still blazing bright…

Tron.

CLU shook his head and straightened to look more closely at the dim blue haze over Argon. Tron was here… the somewhat dimmed down city lights couldn't hide the blaze of… imperfection. He shuddered at the thought.

Tron had to fall… after managing to impossibly escape the repurposing... he had to be extinguished… he had to be eliminated in order to bring about the reign of perfection CLU craved. Tron-

Nearly silent footsteps shattered his already strained train of thought; each one forcing his focus to shift from Tron to the only program who would dare come this close.

CLU head tilted slightly in the direction of his second in command. Out of the corner of his eye, the reflection of blurred orange lights and an extremely pallid face flickered under the already existence of the yellow from the ship's circuits. "We're entering Argon now, Sir."

CLU turned to face forward again, waving Dyson back. "Good."

"And sir…"

CLU turned around fully. That tone… something was intwined with that usually over-confident tone that dripped arrogance…

tension.

CLU faced Dyson. "Yes?"

"He… is refusing to cooperate, sir," Dyson managed, knowing that this was one thing CLU wanted to be of utmost importance in the fate of Tron, and also knowing that any failure in this area would not help him any in the least.

He stared in shock, then quickly recovered his stoic expression and uptight posture as CLU simply shrugged. "Well, then maybe he needs some… motivation."

Motivation? Dyson stared dumbly as CLU strode past, his yellow and black cloak billowing out ominously behind him. How could CLU possibly motivate… what could he possibly do this time? This, now seemingly, countless time…

What would possibly be different?

Instead of voicing his thoughts, for he knew far better than to dare, Dyson lagged behind only slightly, making sure he was just far enough behind his only superior yet also close enough to hear anything he might say.

But CLU said nothing; his thoughtful breathing was the only noise he allowed to echo down the hall as he drew closer to the door that, behind it, held the object of rebellion that he sought to now… motivate.

Dyson just watched as the door slid open and CLU stepped in. He was about to see what motivation his superior could supply…

* * *

Broken.

He shivered as the door slid open, too tired, too exhausted by constant fear, to move in attempt to see who had come in this time.

Would they inject him with the shimmering blue liquid that, though appeared as energy, was laced with some kind of altering and manipulating code?

Would they drop him from the restraints that held him fast to the wall, his hands above his head, his legs secured in the same fashion, with his stomach pressed into the cold wall?

Would they just stand and stare? It had happened before… and it was almost worse than their idea of motivation.

He shivered again as the door closed, a blast of frigid air blowing from the vent above his head at the same time. Maybe derezzing would be better…

* * *

CLU frowned in frustration… there wasn't much more to use in his arsenal of motivational actions for this one. This only one he'd ever decided to… test… and then create with.

Somehow, CLU's scientists had managed to remove the top part of his… project's… suit, revealing an overwhelmingly white skin down until his waist.

Well… it had been a near alabaster at first. Now, it was riddled with deep grey gashes and scars and wounds, and anything else that could be created with a disc, or any weapon with a blade, or even the dark marks from bare hands…

He smirked as the program drew a broken breath; the wheezing only seemed to make the darkness around him flare up pleasantly.

But what made it stir up more was the fact of how this program had come to be… he tilted his head at the memory, seeing every single piece of him placed together, quite literally. Painful? Oh, very. But worth it?

That was yet to be determined.

Somehow, this program had managed to withstand the repurposing process; he hadn't even been effected. And now… CLU was left with breaking him by hand. It was taking far too long to, though.

Far, far too long...

CLU regretted this… of all programs, why should he, the only one with any grasp of perfection, have to deal with this atrocity?

Wait…

no, not an atrocity. This program, no matter how battered they may appear, was not truly a program. Once he was finally broken, he would be CLU's greatest weapon. He was programmed with one thing in mind-

the destruction of anything imperfect.

But… "It seems you've been fighting your programming," CLU drawled, watching as the program's hands tensed the nanocycle he spoke, the slightly slack chains rattling. CLU glared. "You can't fight it forever."

The program's tense body went limp against the wall, his breathing labored. CLU grabbed his shaggy dark brown hair and yanked his head back; the program was still conscious, just too scared and exhausted…

CLU let his head fall back against the wall, grinning at the loud bang that echoed in the dank cubicle. Now, now to motivate this… project of his…

A small box of buttons was plastered by the door. Each light inside the buttons gleamed and danced as they all flashed. He felt his fingertips numbly and swiftly touch against a pale blue one, then a putrid yellow one, and then a deep orange one several times over. He shivered as the air grew colder instantly, his breath visible. He turned, seeing the program's circuits begin to flicker, the yellow and red not even remotely normal. Maybe isolation…? "Have a pleasant cycle," CLU rasped, smirking as he stepped out of the icy room, leaving the program to suffer- no- reconsider his position…

After all, he had no means of escape, no ability beyond his programmed destructiveness, and… no name.

He wasn't going anywhere...

* * *

Cold.

It had been cold for, well, not too long. But he felt frozen.

The program shivered constantly, unable to stop. All his life was was pain. All he ever knew was pain. How long had he been in existence… only… twenty cycles…

He probably didn't have many more left.

His fingers twisted in and around the cuffs that were far too tight on his wrists, and he winced as the rough inner edges sliced into him. He sighed and slumped against the wall. There was no way out… none. He squeezed the edges in agony, wishing that he was strong enough to break the bonds… to get away.

Wait-

he was programmed to destroy…

For the first time… in his existence, he smiled; true, a slight smile, but a smile nonetheless. He might just have a way to escape this nightmare. After all, it was either escape, or die trying.

* * *

_-okay, this is not like the Embers series, now is it? ;)_

_any thoughts? criticism? anything? (hey, i'll take some chocolate if you have it) ;) please just leave a review- doesn't have to be anything big. and ideas or suggestions are always welcome :)_

_(sorry- this story would've been up sooner- it's just that school got in the way... so sorry for the updates on this one being farther apart than before. i'll try to get a chapter up each week. again, sorry...)_

_and, also knowing what today is, just keep in mind those who lost their lives today... it's really sad to think that so many people died who were innocent... :( but it's also a sign to remember that things could end at any time... this is your time. never forget._

_God bless! :)_


	2. Regret

"GONE?!"

CLU's voice thundered inside Tesler's ship as soon as Tesler was out of earshot; he didn't want the sad excuse of a general who'd failed at every chance to end Tron's reign of terror.

He slammed a hand into the side of his ship, the pain from the hit creating more darkness, the darkness he prayed off of. The darkness he lived on.

Dyson emerged from the ship, the yellow lights powering down and flickering into nothing, blending in with the pitch black corners of the hangar. "Nothing, sir. He's gone."

"HOW?!" CLU thundered, whirling to face his second in command, a wild glare etched over his face. "How could he possibly escape?!"

"The chains were broken, sir. And the door was derezzed…"

CLU blocked out the rest of what he deemed as Dyson's now insignificant ramblings. That wasn't the priority in his eyes.

What was his priority was discovering how the program had managed to escape… without a disc.

* * *

Dark.

No… he shuddered. No more darkness. No more. Darkness meant excruciating pain.

He didn't want any more of it.

Pain… he groaned and tried to push himself up. He still ached- no, more than ached. He just couldn't find the right word for it.

All he remembered was… what? Oh… he was figuring out how to break out of the frigid room that held only memories that would torture him. He looked around, the panic he was desperately struggling with showing. Dark…

he was still in the room…

No.

No, something was wrong. He gasped, starting to wheeze; whether it was from pain, or fright, he wasn't sure. "Where…"

This wasn't the room.

Relief.

Then confusion.

Then fear.

Where was he? And… how did his suit become whole again?

He stared at where his chest and arms had been bare; now a somewhat soft metallic black sheen covered his whole body, and red and yellow circuits pulsed faintly; slightly flickering.

And there was a strange weight on his back. He winced as his arm caught fire under the suit and reached back to find… a disc. But… CLU said he'd never have a disc… never. He shivered in the pitch black. CLU… had said he'd never be anything… that he was truly just a shell for programming and re-programming. He closed his eyes, seeing the same thing whether they were open or closed; the blue-green irises pulsed and tried futilely to glow under his eyelids as he rocked himself back and forth…

no, no, no, no, NO!

He hurt. And it wasn't just from the "motivation." It was from before… CLU thought without a disc he didn't remember how he was created…

but he did…

unfortunately…

Piece by piece… fused together… and it hurt beyond belief… and now…

he shivered.

What… had happened?

The shock and overwhelming sense of panic finally won out and unconsciousness claimed him.

* * *

That noise, that noise, that retched noise! The noise-

He pulled his hands away from his ears in shock, his eyes snapping open, even that hurting immensely.

That noise-

it wasn't… it wasn't the machines or the weapons or the screeching of CLU's disc when it grazed his back-

it was…

music?

He pushed himself up from the ground, trembling under the strain. Every movement tore at him, sending more pain racing from where his disk connected with his back; he could not only see, but feel, his circuits twist into a dimmer hue, flickering more and more.

The music… it was loud. True, it was nice and all, but it sent daggers into his temples and made him nearly fall back down to his knees. But he strained to listen to it anyway.

But listening wasn't enough… not quite. He had to get closer… had to see where the sound- where the music came from… he just had to.

Inching along, using the side of the grimy alley wall (as he could now see where he was, somewhat to his advantage) as a crutch, he gasped, seeing the large glowing frame of a club; the flashing lights in the sign were beautiful, filled with a peace of mind that he couldn't explain or comprehend.

But as soon as the good feeling had filled him, sinking into the core of his coding, the signs seemingly meaningless display of peaceful and relaxing colors broke its rhythm of pulsing to the music and crackled into a "wanted" sign.

He gasped, feeling a sensation similar to broken glass slip through and down his throat. That… that sign… NO! He closed his eyes, digging his all too sore fingers into the corner of the building, groaning as he willed his programming… everything CLU had made him to be… to not acknowledge the sign.

Finally, after several nanocycles that seemed to stretch on far longer than they should've, he forced his eyes open, blinking in relief as the colors flashed in their original manner.

He glanced around, scared. Had… had anyone seen him? He saw a guard down at the end of the street, seemingly oblivious to the his painful existence; a group of programs just standing outside a shop of some sort, maybe a place for odds and ends, talking and laughing about something; two programs sitting on a fluorescence green bench by the club, discussing their work schedule-

"Ugh…" everything spun, churning and twisting out of focus. Ducked behind the wall, breathing heavy as three programs walked out of the club, the trio acting like there wasn't a care in the world. He gasped, nervous. He had no idea just how CLU had programed him… would the mere thought of destruction turn him into a hellish nightmare? Or… was it all by choice? The minor existence of the first thought made him want to derezz.

He glanced around the corner again, taking in the programs. One a girl, the other two guys. The girl had bright blue hair, and it had a rebellious quality that made him feel at ease for some reason. It just had something about it… something protesting CLU's mutilated idea of perfection… it was incredible. Her eyes glowed the same color as her hair, and she was very pretty; he shook his head. She had friends; he didn't; he was a nothing, a broken nobody.

The one guy with her had green glowing circuits, buzzing with ignition from the fresh energy he'd drank down inside. Energy… he shook his head. He'd never had any, just injections… and he was too sick and probably hideous to get into the club for any. He was tall and skinny, and he seemed a little giddy… maybe it was just a good night.

And the third one-

was staring back.

He gasped, taking in the short spiky brown hair and pale blue and deep blue circuits, and then the brown eyes that seemed to hold too deep of a secret… he shook his head, his eyes not leaving those of the other program. He was hiding something-

"Beck! You coming or what?"

He jumped, the loud voice coming from the green-circuited program startling him. He glanced at where the voice had come from and noticed that the guy and the girl had left… was it Beck?… behind, just noticing his absence.

Beck glanced in their direction too, then nodded, looking back at him with concern and sympathy. Did he really look that bad? "Yeah… I'm coming," Beck replied, nearly tripping as he spun around to catch up with his friends, finally tearing his eyes away from the program hidden in the alley.

He sighed and fell to the ground, unable to stand any longer. He shook, wondering if he was going to hurt anyone… what had that program… what had Beck thought when he'd seen him? Was he hideous? He'd never even seen his face… probably was hideous, though, being a creation of CLU that had come from… bits and pieces.

Reached for his disc, pain shooting through his arm and racing everywhere else possible. The rim activated in his hand and he flinched in horror, remembering CLU's disc vividly. The disc fell to the ground, the rim deactivating, the horrid glow gone, leaving the alley just slightly darker, for the club was now open and illuminating it.

"N-not cur-curfew… yet…" he managed, desperate to see just what his voice sounded like when he wasn't screaming. He sounded hoarse, wincing at the sound of his own voice… He sounded horrible.

He didn't know what he'd done, but after tapping this glowing hologram, and then that light blue button, and a few whatyamacallits that pulsed a faint blue, he had access to his coding.

Now it was time to see what CLU had done to him...

* * *

_-ugh... really wanted to post this sooner... sorry, school's just being a big pain... pretty sure i bombed my science quiz today..._

_thanks, Come to the Well, Briannajs-22, and PrincessKai317 for reviewing :)_


	3. I'm Pretty Sure

He gasped.

This was far too complex… for him… so dumb and such a numbskull of a program… to understand-

and yet he could!

True, the coding showed immediately what he'd expected it to. What he'd known from the beginning. He was bits and pieces… a cube here, a fragment there… and then he was repurposed to the point where resistance of CLU's orders should've been impossible. Unthinkable. Unimaginable…

and yet he'd been able to.

He shook his head, letting his disc fall to his lap. "What… w-what am I?" he stuttered, rasping at straws for theories. Maybe… no, that was pointless. Or possibly… no, that was too far-fetched.

He sighed and closed his eyes, gasping from the mental workout. It seemed like all the coding from CLU, everything that had been forced into him-

it was all dormant.

There was no control switch to hold; there was no instantaneous trigger; it was all guesswork. CLU had been sure of his creation just doing whatever he commanded it. He hadn't expected it to rebel against it all.

He grinned, still trying to get the smile to come more naturally after only ever smiling once before now. CLU had depended on his obedience…

big mistake.

He continued to sift through his coding, unable to predict his next findings. And they were the last thing he, or any other program, would dare to expect.

He had abilities beyond what CLU had given him.

CLU had made him into a fighter, a natural fighter built for the ultimate kills. But underneath those streams of data, he found the blue, barely glowing text and characters that showed he was truly not built for destruction.

He was built… for creation?!

At the core of his coding… he had power unlike any other program! He could create things! Probably nothing complex or worthwhile, he was sure of that, because he was just a bruised, broken and battered excuse of code…

But he could create!

The smile returned to his face, curling his lips in a manner that was becoming more commonplace as the cycle played itself out around him, outside his darkened alley only lit up by the lights and music of the club. He continued his search through his code. A few pieces here, a strand of code there, something he didn't even dare to wrap his mind around (yet he did anyway) set dead center in the middle… The voyage was no longer focused on his coding, but on his identity. He'd never had a name; CLU had also depended on that for his seemingly inevitable submission.

Though as he kept unraveling the pieces, it seemed there was no name in the mix, not even a set of numbers to identify him with.

There was…

nothing.

He sighed, the despair that flooded him whenever CLU or Dyson had walked into his little horror-filled cell returning in tenfold. He truly was a nothing. A nobody.

Something suddenly flashed from amid the swirling streams of data pouring from his disc. He flinched at the sight, then winced at his movement, and cautious wrapped his hand around the glaring piece of mysterious code, pulling it from the center, his abilities of creation allowing him to not damage any of his already mishandled code.

As soon as the coding was visible, he gasped.

"I-I'm…" he wheezed, unable to go any further. He truly was pieced together, completely. Every pixel was from someone else-

from ISOs.

He was horrified. To know that he was created from other programs… innocent programs…

he truly felt that he should derezz then and there, in order to not be an abomination to their lives.

And that was his last thought before he gave in to the pains and aches that made him weaker as time dragged on, collapsing into oblivion.

* * *

Oblivion…

it felt good whenever he passed out, the rest of the outside world escaping his grasp…

And it hadn't now for… several… petrocycles…

Why?

He stumbled, almost grateful for the pain shooting like lightning up through his leg, falling behind the side of another building, away from CLU's ominous Black Guard now stationing themselves around every corner since CLU's arrival in this, formerly, serene city. Now he wasn't safe anywhere… he rolled his eyes, smirking wryly at the thought; he was never safe to begin with.

He gasped as a program walked past the alley, recognizing him from the night before. It was… why couldn't he remember his name without pondering it for what, to him, seemed like eternity?

"Beck…" he bit his lip, his teeth hitting the cracked and chapped pale grey lip and cracking open, causing small streams of coding to trickle down his throat.

Beck turned, peering into the alley. He gasped and flattened against the wall, hoping the darkness would hide him; his circuits were dim enough to be non-existent. He sighed in relief as Beck looked away, his face twisting between concern and… worry. Was he watching for something?

He sighed again as Beck left, glad for being alone again. He pulled off his disc and started tapping things, trying to discover how he, how a screw-up like him, could possibly have the power to create things.

He shivered as the wind blew again; the Grid's winds were far too icy, though most programs didn't take notice; sadly, he did. He shivered again and sighed, wishing he was warm.

Suddenly, something warm fell over his shoulders and arms, and then his chest and stomach. He gasped and opened his eyes from after shutting them as the icy breeze hit. Gasped again, partly from pain and partly from shock.

A cloak…

He lifted his arms and ran his hands over the smooth material… it was soft, as soft as anything could probably get on the Grid, with how cold and dark and dank a place it was becoming.

But how-

wait… so THIS was how his coding worked! He grinned, no hesitation behind the emotion. "I-I-" he couldn't get any words out…

He was too shocked for words.

He quickly discovered something else; although being able to create just about anything, he couldn't generate any energy, which he was in desperate need of, even the tiniest bit.

It looked like he wasn't going to be able to get any. At all…

And then he'd derezz, just die… and no one would care.

* * *

_-hey, i posted early! :)_

_sorry for not giving him a name yet... he has one- i just have to wait a little while before saying what it is..._

_thanks for the reviews, as always! :)_


	4. We Have Met

Where was he now?

He gasped, feeling the coding in his throat dry out more with each stabbing breath; he was slowly derezzing from the overwhelming lack of energy. His only option, after trying desperately to get inside a club (every attempt had been futile), would be to drain another program's energy- to kill them! And… he… he couldn't… he couldn't possibly derezz anyone… ever…

he'd rather fall to a piles of bits and pieces first.

Gagged. He felt the coding tear away from the inside of his throat, not enough to do damage yet- it was only a lining, and it could be replaced with a glass of energy… if he could get his all to feeble hands on one- and sighed, struggling to even get a breath.

He collapsed into yet another alley; it seemed his entire existence he was falling into dark places, only to get back up and trudge off to another dark and dank hole. As the darkness went numb, he smiled. Maybe… he'd… just…

"Hey…"

He groaned. Whatever, or whoever was shaking his shoulder only made the pain worse. They-

wait! What if it was CLU again? Or Dyson? Or…

His eyes flickered open, the blue green depths rolling in agony; his scars blazed under his suit and he stared up into a blurry face; the only thing identifiable was the program's dark brown eyes which swam in and out of focus. "Hey, are you alright?"

He pulled himself up, sitting up despite feeling like he could break apart into thousands of tiny cubes of… well… some color. He gasped, his eyes wide.

Beck…

Why was this program here? He… he looked down, away from Beck, terrified. He'd never been this close to another program, except for stumbling and bumping into a few on the street.

Beck just watched him; true, he was supposed to be at work right now, but this program seemed more important. He watched as the program tried to shrink away, shaking. He was a little confused as to why there were no visible circuits on him; maybe they were just highly concentrated under the tattered and torn blue oak he wore. He titled his head, and the program followed the motion. "Are you okay?" Beck asked, watching as the program looked away.

The program bit his lip, slowly looking back up from the filthy ground (it felt like numerous programs had met their demise at the end of a disc in this particular alley) to Beck's face. He nodded too quickly for it to be believable.

Stared at each other. Brown, secretive eyes locked on blue-green pain-glazed ones.

Finally, it was his shattered-sounding breathing that broke the silence. Beck jumped, startled had how bad he sounded. "You're not alright, are you?"

He just stared at Beck, wishing he could muster the strength he needed to run. He glanced around, breaking away from Beck's inquiring eyes. He had to get away. He had to-

"Greetings, programs..."

He watched as Beck's head snapped up, like his life depended on the speech coming from… well… who was it from? He'd heard it before… somewhere… Tesler! It was General Tesler who CLU really didn't care for.

"… and we are asking for your help," Tesler droned on, "in capturing not only the Renegade, but an escaped prisoner who has refused to accept that CLU will bring perfection…"

He didn't hear anything else. They were talking about him! They'd probably have his picture… though he'd never seen it… and blast it everywhere.

True, they were talking about the Renegade as well… and he'd heard some stuff about him, just bits and pieces. He'd heard about him beheading and then blowing up a statue of CLU from Dyson… and then he'd heard about him trying to destabilize the city he now had collapsed in numerous times… he'd also heard that the Renegade had done many other things, and he remembered CLU dub him a murderer.

Something about the picture those words painted didn't match up. The Occupation killed and derezzed, not programs fighting it. And he knew from overhearing CLU rant about their secret project (he still had no idea what they had been building, but it had to do with repurposing) nearly destroying Purgos that the Occupation were the ones nearly ripping apart the very codes that wove together to create the Grid.

The Renegade, as he'd also heard… was rumored to be Tron.

No- that was partially true. He'd also heard Dyson saw it WAS Tron. And from what he'd heard about Tron… even some of the darkest, most hardened Black Guards thought he had been an excellent program. Maybe he wasn't dead after all…

Both Beck and him jumped, startled by a Recognizer going by; could've sworn saw Beck glare at it with almost the same amount of resentment he held deep down for the Occcupation. He had forgiven CLU- CLU was too sick to think straight at all. But could he forget everything that had happened to him? Probably not.

The Recognizer switched from Tesler's glass-shattering face to a wanted sign of the Renegade; the "T" emblem on his chest seemed to pulse brighter and brighter in coding color; it was almost calming, minus the fact it was a wanted sign.

But it was Beck's face that made him wonder just who was under that mask. As he turned back to Beck, who hadn't noticed he'd even moved, he saw Beck's jaw become tense, his eyes igniting with passion. It wasn't hate or a grudge- Beck, though only seen in short glimpses or for just moments- wasn't able to hate; he was sure of that. But something burned deep down inside him that made him wonder if he thought Tron was alive. Hope, inspiration, faith- whatever was fueling Beck made him wonder less about who the Renegade truly was, despite the picture the Occupation's thousand words painted of him. He didn't seem like a bad guy…

Beck turned back to him. "Are you sure you're fine? You look like you're gonna fall over…"

He nodded and just stared at Beck, feeling his throat crack more.

"Okay… see you around."

Watched as Beck walked away, glancing back over his shoulder skeptically. True, he had lied. But what if everything he thought he'd seen in him saying he was good was just a hallucination?

And he didn't even have a name…

No identity…

No way to get help…

He sighed and watched as Beck's shadow faded away. There was no way he was going to last another cycle...

* * *

_-sorry in advance for the fact that i probably won't get another chapter up until next week. school pictures (kill. me. now.), class ring orders, tons of tests and quizzes... sorry, guys. i'll get the next chapter up as soon as i can. :(_

_thanks, PrincessKai317 and Briannajs-22 for reviewing! :) the reviews mean a lot, guys :)_


	5. Every Single Day of Your Life

"HALT!"

Oh, that was not a good sound.

The distortion tearing up the voice was definitely that of one of the Guards; and, it was, after all, past curfew… which he happened to be out after…

He ran, feeling every inch of his body burn beneath the suit. Even if there wasn't a mark or scar or unhealed slash, it blazed. He was scared now. What if they caught him and dragged him back to CLU? What if they just sliced their discs through him and left him die there?

No- he wasn't getting caught.

"Halt! You are in violation of-"

The rest of the threat was lost as a disc slipped by his arm. He'd heard it coming- unfortunately due to his wonderful programming- and ducked, falling to his knees. He hissed and pushed him self back up off the gleaming blue city street and started running again, not even daring to glance back.

"Program evading capture in sector-"

Oh, that was great! He finally did dare to look back over his shoulder, the pain in his neck churning and twisting to the point where he was relatively sure his head would come off.

There was only one guard after him that he could see; on the ground, that is. Two light choppers. A Recognizer. And… what appeared to be a tank; his vision was so blurred from pain that he didn't even see the majority of his pursuers clearly.

But one thing was, sadly, clear.

His thoughts.

And, as he ran, not sure what was behind him, but painfully dodging the more and more frequent slashes from discs aimed for the kill, one thought echoed, as on replay, in his mind:

I'm gonna die.

True, in his head the letters and syllables had been broken and battered stammers and stutters, and the sound echoed ominously, like he was being sent to be executed, derezzed into so many itty bitty bits that he'd never be completely found at all-

NO.

Something echoed in his head. He'd never heard that before, and he knew that the word was not from his worn, weary voice. It sounded calmed, relaxing… It defied all logic of the present situation. Maybe it was just a more healed version of himself; he'd never heard of the voice of another echoing in a program's head before… and even though it was only one word, it held all the power and strength and encouragement to push him forward.

He sped up, his feet burning in agony as they pounded against the ground. Having been programmed with a thorough knowledge of every inch of Argon, he noted that he was headed for the outlands. He wasn't sure whether that was going to help him, but as more of the coding, this time inside his mouth, crackled open and split, he decided it was his only option.

Two more choppers. And they had just opened fire...

Outlands it was.

* * *

He'd lost them.

And… in the process, he'd probably lost the last shred of hope for living to see the next cycle pan out that he had left…

He collapsed onto the ground, too tired to remember much. "I-in o-o-outl-lands… a-al-all al-alone…" he mumbled, feeling just how far he'd pushed himself; every piece that held him together groaned deafeningly in agony as the snow fell faster and harder, itself cursing his very, involuntary, existence. The digital environment might just kill him off before the pain and horror of his short life overwhelmed his trembling body.

Closed his eyes. The blue-into-green irises pulsed dimmer and dimmer, fading into a dull and broken grey. Blued lips. Skin tinged even more pallid than ever before. He just was ready to accept it.

He was going to derezz.

No one would know his name.

No one would care.

No one… would see how bad of a failure he truly was…

As everything faded into a void of endless nothingness, he could've sworn he felt a program touch his shoulder. But his last shaky, incomprehensible thought was that he was dreaming… and that he was going to derezz without anyone's noticing.

* * *

_-sorry for this chapter being short... haven't had a lot of time lately with school and life... and school...  
_

_just feeling really worn out lately... sorry. don't wanna annoy you guys with anything. :(_

_thanks, PrincessKai317 and Briannajs-22 for reviewing! :) the reviews mean a lot to me. they don't have to be long. _

_have a good day, guys :)_


	6. I'm the Whisper Inside

Warm…

He was warm…

Wait… if he was derezzed, he shouldn't be able to feel warmth at all…

should he?

And the pain… he was pretty sure, even with his jumbled thoughts, that he shouldn't feel that after becoming pile of uselessness.

He was suddenly terrified. If he was still alive… and he'd passed out in the outlands… then… where was he now?!

Couldn't feel much of anything, aside from the pain; but suddenly, involuntarily, his breathing sped up, coming out in loud wheezes which he was unaware of.

"Whoa! Hey! Take it easy!"

He stopped breathing at that. Who had said that?

"It's okay. You're okay…"

The rest of what was said faded into nothingness.

* * *

His eyes burned as he forced them open; even thinking was draining his energy. He was too tired and worn to do much else.

But as soon as he'd opened his eyes, he gasped, and wished he could bolt from the bright white and glowing walls of this… place… escape from the program standing over him-

wait!

He sat up straight, vaguely feeling a hand leave his shoulder. That wasn't his concern though…

it was that…

that the program kneeling over him was-

was the one he was supposed to have been created to destroy.

Managed to keep from letting his dulled and exhausted eyes from rolling backwards in his head as his vision completely cleared, his face just inches from that of the masked Renegade, the "T" symbol adorning his chest.

He was sure he was going to die, right here, on this brilliant floor, his pixels just strewn everywhere and forgotten.

Right next to the program he was supposed… supposed to remove the equation of perfection…

not good.

* * *

_-yeah, another short one. sorry… i know you guys don't like them much, but… it's just been pretty hectic for me. sorry again… next one should be longer. :(_

_thanks for the reviews, guys :) they really mean a lot to me... they don't have to be long... _

_:)_


	7. I Won't Let You Forget

"I WANT HIM FOUND!"

Paige shuddered as CLU's scream ripped through the base; she'd heard his shouting far too many times since his arrival and was beginning to wonder if any of his mental codes were glitching-

No! She gasped and quickly changed her way of thinking. This was CLU! He was seeking perfection! His screaming had to be some part of it… she just didn't know what yet.

Her thoughts were shattered by another outburst of, "FIND HIM!"

As she sat in her room, the somewhat puke-tinged orange of her glowing blanket draped around her shoulders in the early moments of this new cycle, she wondered just who CLU was after.

Reached for her monomer player and sighed. Maybe an ISO… her lips twisted into a bitter, angst-filled smirk; they destroyed everything; they had no purpose; they deserved to go, to be fed to the lions-

they needed to go.

"All they cause is pain and suffering," Paige mumbled, the grudge from her friends getting derezzed still tearing her apart inside. This… working under Tesler and CLU- and putting up with the ever bumbling Pavel- this would avenge them.

She smiled softly, thinking of how working under them would bring new order, flawless order.

Perfection in it's greatest (or most havoc-strung) state.

Paige tapped the simple white buttons on the player, nestling down farther in her somewhat hardened bed, the glowing blankets covering her, as she got lost in her music.

Got lost in her escape.

* * *

"What… Who is he?!"

Beck whirled around, his dark mask still sealed tightly over his face as the only program on the Grid who could have a voice that was comforting, yet sometimes the one that could rip any hopes to shreds… "He's ready to derezz," Beck snapped, matching Tron's condescending tone.

"Who is he?" Tron just repeated, his mask sliding up over his blazing eyes; Beck stared at his mask, unanswering, as he remembered the scar that had marred his neck and raced up across to his forehead was now no longer a problem.

The program groaned weakly, twisting feebly on the harsh ground beneath their feet and Tron had to gasp, against his will, as the brokeness of the program's breath hit him. "What happened to him?"

"I…" Beck's eyes darted around behind his mask as he broke off his somewhat sure answer. He had no idea- he'd only seen him a couple of times… but something was definitely wrong if a program that was just over his height was that easy to lift. "I don't know."

Tron frowned, thankful his mask hid his face from Beck. He didn't want the younger program to see him uncertain or unsure of anything; he had to appear sure of himself, appear like he had the answers to the core of everything; had to have the answers for the revolution… he had to show Beck he wasn't going to be shaken by anything. No emotion. No… anything.

Beck watched as Tron just knelt beside the program, not-so-gently removing their disc and practically letting his trembling form smack back down to the glistening floor. He looked down at the floor, too beat to say anything…

Tron was always like this.

A joke here.

A quick compliment there.

One or two smiles in all these cycles…

He watched as Tron tapped at the coding to reveal the program's vitals; he bit his lip to keep from gasping. The coding was horrific, but slightly improved over what it could've been.

Beck's frown returned as Tron didn't even acknowledge the fact that he could see energy had been administered to his broken and breaking system. Beck shuddered, remembering how he'd so recently had to force the energy down between his slack, too pallid lips as he coughed, spitting some of it up as his drained coding tried to process it and rebuild what was slowly ripping away and being lost.

He…

Beck had to step back at the thought… at the realization that… no matter how many times Tron said they were friends… no matter how many…

he was never going to be good enough.

Not good enough to ask Tron for help in his problems.

Not good enough to be the next Tron.

Not…

Not even good enough to match Cyrus' strength…

Beck shrugged. He was just going to have to try to play perfect, even if it derezzed him from the inside out.

He just wasn't aware that it already was…

* * *

Tron glanced up after placing the disc back on the program, not being even the slightest bit sympathetic towards his injuries, too lost in thought. There was too much coding, far too much… it almost-

no…

He stared at the program, who's coding was stabilizing slowly but surely. He wasn't an… he couldn't be…

He was an ISO…

Tron figured that telling Beck that not-so-tiny detail could wait; Beck had training to catch up on after Pavel fired the garage's entire staff. However, Pavel had no say truly in their being fired- he didn't own the place (many convuluted codes had prevented his eager wish...) , so they still had their jobs. And that was not going well for Beck, because without Able there to help him and be his sounding board if he needed one, he was trying to balance being the Renegade and doing at least a couple of his shifts…

What Tron didn't know about that was the fact that Zed and Mara had all but torn Beck apart, pixel by pixel, for his trying to keep up with everything.

"Well, he'll be fine soon," Tron said gruffly, his voice made all the more hoarse and degrading from his helmet's distorter, standing, thankful for being able to move without any pain from his scars. He glared behind the mask for a second as he turned to look at Beck. Beck had almost let him get repurposed, taking nearly too long to get in and stop his descent from healing to becoming a nightmare. Beck needed to improve there as well. Too many flaws… too many things to get worked out…

Beck just nodded, and as Tron looked at him, Tron had to frown, his expression barely changing, only cracking from judgmental to concerned for barely a nanocycle. Was Beck swaying? Not noticably- just slightly, controlled…

No, Beck wasn't swaying. Beck was fine. Perfectly fine.

Perfect…

The perfect successor.

The perfect Renegade.

The perfect program.

Beck wasn't any of the above…

Tron sighed, letting his anger and irritability out audibly. Beck had far to go before he'd come close enough to being his successor truly.

Even Cyrus hadn't had this far to go at his weakest point…

* * *

_-sorry for his name not being in this chapter either... but it is coming, i promise!_

_i haven't been feeling so good, so sorry if there are errors i missed..._

_and... if you're reading down this far... i have a fictionpress account under my name on here, 2theSky. if anyone's interested, there are a couple stories on there..._

_thanks, Pirateweasel and PrincessKai317 for reviewing! :)_


	8. Hello

Hard...

what was he laying on that was hard?

He felt dizzy; felt the core of the Grid itself seem to spin, even though he was nearly completely positive that he was laying down...

wait.

His eyes snapped open, the blue and green blazing with a mix of fear and slight hope that he wasn't going to derezz... yet; and yet still mixed in was the shock and awe of the fact that someone had saved him.

Staggered to his feet. There were lights in the floor, he noticed, and as he swayed on his feet, they appeared to spin. The voids in the middle of the lights were dark, ominous, and he was scared. This wasn't right... last time the floor had been lit... the floor burned out, too?! No... something needed to remain a constant for him; everything couldn't be a variable; everything didn't need to be a blasted variable!

Or did it...?

He closed his eyes, swallowing around the lump that forged itself in his throat, trying to get it down. His throat had stopped crackling, the sickening sound of pixels breaking from the source and roots of his code now thankfully dead. He looked around... darkened walls, a door-

a door.

He slowly stepped towards it, glad no one was there to see him leave. He wanted to. He needed to... right?

Nearly fell into the dimly lit door frame, staring down at the floor. He saw the yellow and red of his circuits pulse faintly, showing that someone had gotten energy into his system. He almost smiled at the thought, almost allowed himself to think that maybe-

no.

Shook his head weakly. No one was ever going to care... no one.

He looked up and wrapped his blue tattered cloak tighter around himself as he limped out of the door way.

* * *

"What's with his circuits? Now that's something I don't understand..."

Tron growled, angered at his findings. The program, though an ISO, was... repurposed.

And Beck had dragged him into the hideout...

"Everything... everything's lost!" He smashed his now lethal fist into the holograms the screen displayed, showing readouts of a copied code from the program's disc. Tron's eyes narrowed dangerously, to the point that they might involuntarily rewrite their coding and become little fiery slits.

The program was a killing machine! He was written to kill!

He...

"He should've just derezzed out there," Tron muttered, hissing in between words and breaths alike. His fuming… he justified it. The program was not to be trusted…

right?

* * *

"… should just derezz him now…"

He froze. That voice… that voice that was growling and strained…

it frightened him.

No- more than that. it terrified him, shook him to the eery fiber of every little strand of code. Only CLU had ever sounded that way… right before he would begin "motivating" him…

He had to get away from that voice.

Now.

* * *

Tron stopped his anger-fueled rant and realized something; he had never seen any of CLU's lackeys in the condition this one was in; he'd only seen them in fighting form, or in cube form…

so…

why was this one nearly dead?

Tron frowned, reviewing the code again. He stared in awe at his findings.

This program… had… had resisted the repurposing.

Even Tron's security systems, the ones that fueled his coding when his short fuse didn't, didn't match up to that potential. He was supposed to be a great hero, one who was supposedly unstoppable… until the rumor of his derezolution raced through every stream of the Grid's coding and proclaimed him nothing more than a dead hero. And this program… had managed to escape CLU's terror in a way he never could!

But… had he escaped untouched?

Tron pushed through data stream after data stream, past holograms, through mazes and corridors of deformed and twisted coding, and was appalled by just how much damaged coding he was looking at, and he wasn't even to where he could get the answer!

"Scars under his suit… how does that happen?" Tron thought aloud, thinking his voice went unheard; surely Beck wasn't there, and even if he was, he wasn't that good of an eavesdropper. Another thing he'd have to perfect…

Tron jumped as something fell inside the hideout. He didn't have anything set so it would fall though… "Beck?" For all he knew, it was just Beck coming in, tripping over his own feet.

No answer.

The fact that he didn't get an answer wasn't helping the feeling that started weaving around his coding mainframe, seizing him and making him wonder just what had fallen behind him. "Who's there?"

* * *

There was no way on the Grid that he was answering.

He couldn't believe he was so weak that he'd wilted to the floor in a heap only after a few steps. Everything spun, too; he started pushing himself up, but froze as the grating voice had said something his worn down ears didn't quite catch; sounded like a name; he wasn't able to be sure of that though.

Footsteps echoed from what seemed like far away, but he was aware enough to know they weren't.

And was aware enough to know he needed to get out of there.

* * *

Tron started down the steps, not even noticing the fact that each step didn't pain him as they used to before… before Beck had almost let him get repurposed. His lips formed a strange grimace, one that could possibly turn a program to a reduced pile of cubes from just a glance. His helmet slid into place, his suit slipping into the darkest mode; the few white circuits flickered to life on the black.

He stared at what lay just ahead of him when his feet reached the last step.

The program… the one Beck had brought in… he lay curled up in a heap, his torn cloak almost slipping off his slim frame. He had his hands pressed against the reflective floor, trying futilely to stand as he probably had been before; Tron highly doubted the program had crawled from the training room.

Suddenly, the program's head snapped up, his wavy brown hair falling in his eyes as he looked up. Tron, against all thoughts of helping the poor program to stand again, grabbed his disc and activated it; just because the program had survived repurposing did not make him safe by any means.

He almost allowed himself to frown as the program's eyes went wide, and then finally did give himself permission to as the program jumped up, swaying and wincing all at once.

It didn't matter though. Just because the program looked weak… it didn't mean he was.

What he was was a possible threat…

a threat that needed to go.

* * *

_-yay, Tron's a nasty lunatic! wait... probably gonna have to fix that... eventually... some day... but today is not that day!_

_thanks, Pirateweasel, Briannajs-22, and PrincessKai317 for the reviews! :)_

_Tron lives! :)_


	9. My Name is Defeat

"Please!"

Tron swung at the program, watching as they feebly ducked and fell back to the floor. Their desperate cry had fallen on his incredibly deaf ears and he swung again.

The program didn't even push themselves back up to fight or to run; instead, as Tron brought his disc down, the program raised his arms over his head.

"Stupid move," Tron rasped, his teeth clenched as his disc fell-

and then something connected with his helmet.

As he fell onto his back, his darkened disc clattering to the floor, he realized that the program wasn't as dumb as he looked in his extremely stressed state; he'd just brought his arms up, pushing Tron away.

Well, he was ready for this terror now.

He jumped back up, grabbing his disc and twisting to connect his foot with the program's face at the same time. The program fell again, his time on his stomach, and he whimpered, his fingers desperately grabbing at the smooth floor, clawing at it.

Tron shook his head. "CLU should've trained you better..." he left the rest of his thought unsaid as he just kicked at the program again, this time in the chest.

The program didn't even bother to remove his disc from his back, which with the opening in his cloak around it was easy to do. Instead, he stared at Tron as Tron crouched beside him, his disc raised, aimed at his throat. He clenched his one hand into a tight fist, then slowly decreased the strength of the force a blow would've had, and Tron rolled his eyes. Poorly trained... very poorly-

"He didn't break me, and you won't either."

The quiet, broken voice shattered his thoughts, and he saw something connect with his chest as he tried to see the program's expression; he paid no heed to the beeping device now stuck to his chest; only focused on the sadness and fear the program's face held, along with the overload of determination. He-

Device…

The device beeped, and Tron glanced down in time to see the timer clearly display that he had gotten distracted and the device had counted down-

lightning raced over his body, the shock from the stun making him fall to his knees immediately. Everything blurred, and the last thing Tron saw was the program running as fast as he could to get away.

* * *

_-sorry for it being so short- i just wanted to get something up... and get Character-who-has-yet-to-be-named away from Tron... for now._

_thanks, Pirateweasel, PrincessKai317, and Briannajs-22 for reviewing :)_


	10. I Know You Recognize Me

"Beck, are you okay?"

Beck frowned and shook his head, trying to get his jumbled thoughts to stop bouncing between the revolution and the possibility of getting caught and wishing Tron thought he had maybe done something right for once… That voice though; that had to be just a random thought. It had to be-

"Beck… you okay?"

He bought his head up suddenly, looking for the voice and nearly smacking his head off the now rezzed up engine of the light cycle he was tuning up- not effectively though, due to his thought process- and looking for the voice at the same time. He almost derezzed under the mix of anger and concern swirling in Mara's blue eyes. She tilted her head ever so slightly and frowned, biting her lip nervously; Beck mistook the nervousness for anger as his head spun. "Are you alright?" Mara inquired, all the anger she'd been unleashing on him lately seeming to die without her permission.

Nodded. There wasn't much else Beck could do. "I'm fine," he managed, wishing Link would have something self-destruct again; it wouldn't be the first time…

"Are you sure?"

Mara wasn't letting up… maybe it was something in the coding of her blue hair? Beck nodded, the garage spinning around him. He truly wasn't fine… he realized that he needed to drink some energy soon; maybe on his break… maybe then he could get a mouthful and hopefully that meager amount would be enough to keep the Grid from going in constant circles.

Now if Mara would just leave…

Mara frowned as Beck shivered. She didn't know if he was aware of the action or not; he definitely didn't seem it… he didn't seem like he was aware of much- everyone but him had jumped at the loud clamor of a lightcycle self-destructing… at least this time it wasn't Link's doing… more like Link's bumbling.

She watched as Beck's eyes closed for a nanocycle, then flutter back open painfully. He wasn't doing well at all; more pale than his already grey-ish skin ever permitted; eyes duller and distant; words slightly slurred; shaking constantly-

something was wrong…

and even if she was holding a decent grudge against him, he needed her help before he derezzed.

She turned and walked away, her yellow and pale blue circuits pulsing dimly in thought. Maybe Zed would have an idea or two…

* * *

"What?!" Zed snorted, his half empty glass of energy resting in his hand as he sat in the lounge, trying to avoid the Renegade's face and coding structural breakdown on the large "wanted" sign dead ahead. He looked up at Mara. "There's no way that Beck's in that bad of shape."

"Zed, have you even seen him lately?" Mara couldn't believe the audacity of Zed for not believing her. She frowned for a moment, then shook her head to focus; they hadn't been this cold towards Beck… had they? "He's practically asleep on his feet!"

Zed rolled his eyes. "Well, considering we're the ones now managing this place, let's just give him a more lenient schedule. Oh wait, he's the reason we're both pulling double shifts!"

The sarcasm was more than enough to push Mara over the brink. "Fine. If you won't help him, then I will."

Zed's eyes rolled again as Mara stormed out of the lounge; he was suddenly thankful that they were the only two in there… He sighed and left his the remainder glass of energy untouched. "I'm not just doing this 'cause I like Mara- I'm doing this for Beck," he started repeating under his breath, trying to convince himself that he really cared about… a friend… who was… never… around…

He glanced out the window and gave up convincing himself as he saw the slightly darkened sky, showing it was almost curfew; he had a double shift to pull off yet…

* * *

He hurt…

Every step hurt…

Maybe running hadn't been a good idea. Maybe that program wasn't going to hurt him… like he'd thought. He was probably past delusional at this point; his throat was ripping open again… he-

"Halt! You are in violation-"

Crap.

Against all logic ever written into code, he ran. Each step sent more inner coding into modes of near-impossible repair; he could feel his circuits flickering as he ran, his breath tearing more of his throat to shreds. He was probably done for; this would probably be the end.

The end of his thirty cycle life…

He glanced over his shoulder as a squad of Black Guards raced behind him, light staffs activated; he recognized them, with several areas that the other ones didn't have glowing or bulging pieces of shock equipment evilly protruding all over the staffs, as the upgraded ones…

He was done for.

NO.

There it was again! Where was that voice from?! He doubted Flynn sounded like that… who was that? And why did they care?! He was nobody. He was nothing. Was just nothing. He didn't even have a name-

YOU DO MATTER, KIRK.

Kirk? Okay, that voice had him mistaken with someone else… He wasn't-

I AM NOT MISTAKEN, KIRK. THAT IS YOUR NAME.

Okay, not condescending… that was good. The voice was comforting; soothing; gentle. He'd never heard one that… that powerful before… ever. The question, who are you?… it kept echoing in his head.

But there was no answer back…

* * *

_-he has a name! finally! sorry for it taking so long… really didn't expect it to, but it did… sorry :(_

_thanks, Pirateweasel, PrincessKai317, and Briannajs-22 for reviewing! :)_


	11. Just When You Think You Can Win

Beck groaned.

He couldn't even keep his eyes focused on the rugged terrain stretched out before him; the dark of the mountains and the light of the falling snow were blending together before he could even force them apart. Was too tired to focus, let alone drive straight.

Shook his head to clear it, and it only resulted in his vision blurring more at the exhausted motion. Beck sighed, the noise becoming just another clattering in the the cacophony. He had to get to the lair; it was past curfew, and worse yet, Tron would have his head, or a… a pile of pixels from what used to be his head… for being late. He was already late… why even bother? Tron was just going to get mad again, scream or rant or something-

maybe even compare him to Cyrus again…

Beck wasn't even sure Tron had known he'd mentioned the Grid's worst nightmare… or, second worst nightmare… maybe him and CLU were tied? He wasn't sure… for all he knew, Tron was it's worst nightmare.

But he had to get there and see just what he was in for this time; last time, he'd been training for petrocycle after petrocycle, almost a whole millicycle… and that was the length of his shift at work! He shook his head again, not noticing the light cycle swerve beneath him, the lights on it dimmed to avoid any passing Recognizers or choppers.

Time to see just what he was in for now…

* * *

A garage…

This place… he'd passed it before.

Kirk laughed weakly, remembering that it was more like falling into the side of it when he'd nearly gotten run over by an impatient program who, in his spinning haze of near-unconsciousness, he hadn't seen. He fell to his knees in the same spot now, everything spinning in the same manner… he was ill; that small bit of energy hadn't been enough to fuel him for long…

How long had he been running anyway? It seemed like forever…

But now…

he sighed sadly, feeling everything in him, at the shattered center of his being, scream not go through with this action in any way, shape, or form.

But he had to…

Leaned heavily on the building as his support, grateful that it didn't collapse beneath him, like his legs felt like they were about to. Stared in awe at the sheer size of the opening to the garage; only CLU's hellish hangar had been bigger…

CLU…

it would be pointless to think CLU had forgotten him… and it would be foolhardy. There was no way to avoid the fact that he was a fugitive, who CLU would probably stop at nothing to regain his manipulative control over once more…

Kirk shook his head and turned around the corner, staring in awe into the darkened garage.

Dark…

he shuddered for a nanocycle, the glistening hoods of light cycles gleaming in the vast darkness stretched out over the workplace; the darkness made him uneasy… it, in his eyes, made him think incredibly stupid and pointless things…

What if CLU's hiding in there?

What if he derezzes me?

What if he captures me and "motivates" me again?

What if-

"Just stop thinking already," Kirk muttered to himself, his very dimmed temper surprisingly controlled for someone in his state; he wanted his voice to stop echoing in his head; if CLU hadn't broken him, then maybe that voice wou-

wait.

He fell to his knees inside the garage, too weak to stand anymore. His head landed against the hood of a light cycle, the cooled metal easing the throbbing and fiery spikes in his tortured head; he…

Kirk sighed and resorted to crawling, his hands burning with exhaustion and fear as his robe trailed on the floor. He looked around- everything was blurry… not worth looking around. He thought he heard footsteps and froze, feeling his aching coding shudder from the sudden stopping of the motion. He thought he heard more footsteps and shook them off as hallucinating; another cry in the insanity of the cacophony of his mind; that was all the blasted noise was.

He collapsed to the cooled ground, the tiles easing some of the overwhelming pain… his eyes, unnoticed by his pain-racked mind and body, slid shut and everything faded into oblivion yet again, with only one thought remaining:

"… wonder if that weird voice in my head has to deal with collapsing all the time. I'm just weak. That voice isn't… why does it even care?…"

* * *

"Tron?"

Everything looked fine…

That was the bad part.

Nothing out of place.

Nothing flickering.

Nothing-

nothing wrong.

Beck slipped into Tron's white suit, the blazing bright white of it making him wince as he realized that he was wearing the emblem of a mentor he couldn't even begin to please… what was the point in trying? Cyrus was still alive…

"That nutcase pleased him more than I ever will," Beck mumbled, his eyes darting around furiously, despite his urge to just drop to the ground and never rise back up; he didn't see anything wrong. So…

where was Tron?

He felt the mask slip over his face, wishing his coding didn't kick the thing in automatically like it had an overwhelming tendency of doing. He felt dizzy; everything seemed to slant one way or another…

Beck sighed and dragged himself up the stairs, his feet almost falling out from under him… he could feel the strain everything had on his coding…

Shook his head, his eyes glaring at the floor; not in anger; in frustration at himself… "I should be fine," he mumbled. "I shouldn't be this tired…"

Sadly, Beck was so drained of all logical thought that the lie he was convincing himself was true was going to likely be his demise. But… he knew he was feeding his body a lie… and…

no one had cared…

Mara may have, but she had all but told him to derezz himself- oh, wait… she'd said something along those lines the previous cycle… to his face.

So why would she care?

"No o-one d-d-does," he stammered, the slightly metallic twinge in the Grid's atmosphere providing a slight ease to the battered systems his coding tried desperately to keep from falling apart. Beck stopped on the stairs, swaying, and didn't even feel himself fall… left alone tumble back down them and land in an unaware and unconscious heap.

* * *

Tron sat up… and fell back down.

He barely restrained his angered fist from slamming into the hard flooring beneath him… how long had he been out?! His own stupidity… his own anger… emotion…

it had gotten the better of him.

He sighed and tried for the fifth time to stand, wondering just what was in that shock bomb… eerily silent timer, probably set to the highest setting under "derezolution"…

As he shakily stood up, he realized just how late it was… Beck should've been here by now; he'd gotten the coming and going times down to a science, how they varied everyday so the Occupation had nothing to suspect, how… everything about them was varied for each day- he'd already thought about that though… so that was about all he had to memorize.

"Where is he?" Tron rasped, surprised at the coldness of his voice; he thought it was only from his injuries… he sounded like he was practically a Black Guard without a mask! That was… not a good discovery.

But seriously… back to Beck.

He glared, his mouth twisting angrily. Beck… had much to learn yet…

probably too much.

* * *

"Beck?!"

Beck was glad he'd managed to stand; even though he could feel his body swaying. He stumbled as he realized how mad Tron looked…

he was slowly getting used to it… the stare of utter disappointment was withering away any confidence he had… not like he'd had all that much before becoming the Renegade in the first place.

"You're late," Tron snapped, his eyes narrowing farther. He crossed his arms. Demanded a reason with only expression.

Beck sighed. It was just going to be seen as another excuse. No point in saying anything to-

"And stand still," Tron reprimanded. He watched as Beck shifted his stance, swaying more and more.

Beck frowned and looked away; he thought he WAS standing still…

Suddenly everything turned on it's side, the room flickering alarmingly. Beck didn't even hear Tron's seemingly worried voice as everything stopped spinning and fell into the black abyss of nothing.

* * *

_-sorry for any errors. trying to proof this while i'm dizzy isn't fun..._

_thanks for the reviews... again ;)_

_have a good day and God bless! :)_


	12. I'll Drag You Right Back Down Again

Voices…

Close voices…

Ringing in his aching ears voices...

"Who is he?"

"Maybe we should look at his disc, or-?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"No! He's got a right to his privacy. It's not like he's pulling off our discs and picking our memories apar-"

"He collapsed in the garage! There's no way he's safe!"

"He's-"

Oblivion closed in again.

* * *

"How is he?"

Another voice… a sweet voice…

A girl…

He wanted to open his eyes, to see if she was of any threat to him; her tone said no, but even CLU had Tesler under him, and Tesler had Paige under him… he was terrified. He'd only been around a handful of other programs… who was this one?

"He's still out," a slightly annoyed voice hissed, sounding somewhat familiar. "It's been two cycles. What's wrong with him?"

"He probably just needs more rest," the female program spoke again, her voice somewhat soothing. The other voice was kind-sounding, but they were probably a little ticked over some sort of scenario that had gone down-

oh yeah… passing out in the garage…

probably the blasted scenario right there…

Soft fingers trailed gently over his forehead. He flinched and shivered, afraid for his life. He couldn't… CLU… he was so used to only being touched by CLU's angry fists or a furious disc blade blazing or… many other… weapons… and this…

The fingers traced over his forehead again, cool and soothing, but terrifying at the same time. He gasped for a nanocycle, then felt his strength drain…

out again.

* * *

Dark…

he could feel that his eyes were open, but there was nothing to see… was he blind? Or…

A light snapped on and his eyes snapped shut, burning from the slight exposure; he must've been out for a while… he couldn't even get his eyes to open.

But in just a couple nanocycles, his battered coding dragged him down to where it didn't matter whether he was awake or not.

* * *

Tingling.

Why was his system tingling?

It hurt…a dull ache every time a little pinprick danced under his skin; he didn't like it. It almost burned in some spots.

What… what was going on?

This time he was aware only for moments before unconsciousness calmed his worn coding yet again.

* * *

_-yep, all he did was keep waking up and passing out… sorry for it being so short a chapter… i didn't think he'd really be too with it at the moment..._

_sorry for the update taking so long... i really wanted to get it up sooner :(_

_thanks, PrincessKai317 and Briannajs-22 for reviewing! :)_

_i'll have a new chapter up as soon as i can. just... just tired out... sorry :(_

_God bless! :)_


	13. Till You've Lost All Belief

Tron frowned.

It wasn't his usual one, either; it was… more of a concerned frown, one laced in thought.

He'd just let Beck fall to the floor… he hadn't stopped him. Even when Cyrus looked ready to pass out from the more exhausting training exercises, he'd been there to grab his successor and make sure he didn't faint the the ground in a-

wait.

Tron closed his eyes, his helmet now gone after none-too-gently dragging Beck into the training room and rezzing up a table to drop Beck's still form onto and abandoning him…

Beck had already passed those training exercises… those same exact ones… far faster than Cyrus had… and he'd shown no sigh of being ready to collapse.

"Or maybe…" Tron fell to the stairs, his head in his hands. No… What if Beck had been hiding his exhaustion? What-

He slipped into a small grin; at least he was working on hiding emotion. That was good, very-

No.

Tron bit his lip. He hadn't been the best teacher; that he could admit… now that he'd seen the effect it'd had on his incredibly busy apprentice. Beck… Beck was running in so many directions Tron was surprised, after seeing the whole picture much more clearly, that he'd even managed to push his torn coding this far…

"All I did was criticize him…" Tron mumbled into his hands. "He did the techniques perfectly and all I did was…" he let out a long, angst-racked breath, the air in the room seeming to turn against him, going cold. "All I did was make him feel like a failure…"

But… Beck couldn't see him this soft… right?

Tron shook his head. Maybe seeing him as a comforting program was not a good idea, but maybe…

maybe his icy harshness could melt just a little.

* * *

"Who are you?"

This program… his name was… Ted? Red- no, Zed (he really needed to give his fractured mind a break) was not the most comforting program.

Kirk licked his dry lips, the glass of energy just a reach away on a small white table with a single white-ignited leg begging for his attention. "K-Kirk."

Zed nodded, not noticing his eyes lose the battle with tempt and glance for a nanocycle at the blue glimmering glass just behind him. "What happened to you?" Zed asked, frowning in what may have been partial, distracted concern.

"I…" Kirk was shocked; thought everyone would've seen his face by now on wanted posters…

"It's okay," Zed stated, raising his hands in a gesture of noninvasiveness; Kirk was stunned beyond thought. "I understand if… you want to keep something… a secret…"

Watched as Zed's eyes widened in what may have been horror… or surprise… or… Kirk gave up; his body was too tired to comprehend the look in Zed's eyes.

But what was he thinking?

And… why did he want to know so badly?

* * *

CLU glared into the eyes of his reflection, his eyes blazing annoyance…

There had been no sign of his dear experiment… none. The program seemed to have vanished. "By now, it could be out of Argon," CLU rasped thoughtfully, refusing to refer to him as a "him", his helmet turning every word into a hateful burst and every sentence into a deadly symphony.

He'd ordered everyone away; the feel of Tesler's chair was definitely taking him too much time to get used to. It wasn't hard enough… he frowned and dug his teeth into his lip, the coding starting to severe and leak. He smirked. There might be one way to bring his wayward pet home…

* * *

_-and Zed's thinking… this could be bad… or good… but i'm not sure which yet so… ;)_

_thanks for the reviews, guys! :) they really mean a lot :) and... sorry if there were any typos- trying to get this up at the last minute._

_have a good day, guys! :)_


	14. These are the Voices

Beck sighed, a groan escaping his chapped and greyed lips before he could make a feeble attempt at containing it. His eyes snapped open as Tron's voice crackled through the speakers that… he had yet to find in the simulation room. "Let's go again."

He fought for control as soon as Tron spoke, trying not to shudder at the tone; it was the same one, from before he'd faced Dyson…

Tron had seemed not as cold and hardened for only the slightest fraction of a cycle. Beck hadn't been fully passed out when Tron laid him on the table. That was… well… that was about how nice he had been. He'd heard Tron's mumbling from the other room as he laid there, trying to sort out every throb and ache and lightning bolt of paralyzing pain, letting himself believe the lie that Tron actually cared.

He didn't argue as the simulation reset, his thoughts centering back on the present, his hands already curled into fists, feebly clenched ones at that.

As the set of guards- he was too exhausted to count after pushing through another four cycles since his collapse- rezzed before him, he bit his lip to hold back the sigh that was inevitably coming at some point; he was going to work himself to the point of death.

The horrible part was that deep down, he knew it.

* * *

Wrench…

Nope.

He stared at the light cycle, not even crawling under it. He had no reason to.

Kirk felt a gentle smirk tug at his still sore cheeks and still too-light lips. His hands glowed a faint blue, slowly roaming over the pule of the bike he was assigned; this was the tenth one… today, at least. Zed kept giving him one after the other, this one needing a mere tune-up, which was the only relaxed job he'd had; one light cycle, dandelion-tinged, was almost in cues.

He glanced up. Nervous glances every so often. It was only natural..

Besides, he doubted Zed's reaction would be even remotely subdued if he saw how he was repairing the many bikes.

As his hands passed through the components- the brake system, the acceleration, the various gears- any code fractures or glitches instantly smoothed over. It made this easy.

Another frightened, nervous-glazed, glance up.

Nothing.

Kirk continued the slow, patience-driven descent of his energy-desperate hands; the slight shaking of his tired arms hadn't gone unnoticed by his ever wary eyes; he was sure at any nanocycle curfew would be announced, and his aching body could enter and ever-vigilant and incredibly light sleep mode. he'd been fighting sleep, telling any other program, most likely all of them the relaxed- yet wound up like he was on nervousness- that he was fine, blushing at the awe their faces held at his seemingly unfathomable work speed. it was almost cruel, a dream he'd never dared to enter- that his work would be praised! The HE would be praised! It-

"Where were you THIS time?!"

Kirk jumped, the glow fading and his hands abandoning the light cycle's holographic mess of almost finished repairs. He hadn't noticed several mechanic look his way at his startled motion as the left for a quick get-together at the club, or for a short drive before they came back and crashed in their dorms, just moments before the orange glow of hordes of Black guards sickened the bliss that had long since left untouched Argon.

Kirk strained to hear any response, but nothing, at least not with a resounding defensive magnitude, echoed though the white and blue-grey sprinkled garage.

But instead, he jumped again as another bitterness-enraged question hit him with enough surprise to flatten the building. "Oh, so you think we just enjoy pulling YOUR double shifts?! We have lives too!"

"Not unless CLU decides you're perfection," Kirk found himself muttering, wondering two distinct things:

How did that program, supposedly Zed from the concerned yet rebuking tone, figure there was any reason to believe they had lives- lives of their own, or enough of the dream-life they'd had before available for salvaging- after the Occupation had battered and beaten every little last piece of their hope? Their freedom?

And…

Who was he shouting his ever-loving head off at?! Kirk pitied the program, biting his lip in anguish-drenched memory as Zed's unrelenting screams echoed once more. Kirk sighed; he'd been graciously offered a job after he thought these mechanics might want something in return for nursing him thus far. All he'd done was repair a simple light cycle- nothing of great significance- and-

"Able should've fired you," Zed hissed loudly, something in the artifact-packed office rattling at his volume. "But he didn't. Flynn-" Kirk didn't quite flinch, but stiffened under the use of their creator's name- "-only knows why he didn't."

No response. Everything started quieting, and it was rapidly unsettling Kirk's control on his, though thoroughly forgiven, memories of the silence that spoke volumes when the torture was over.

"and…"

Whatever was going to come out of Zed's mouth next… Kirk was sure he wasn't going to like word one of any of it.

"…I have another program willing to pick up your slack. Maybe even your job!"

Kirk stared at the pixel-littered floor like it was the greatest code-written thing in the Grid's existence. He started hoping, sending every wish he had to the voice that echoed in his head, that Zed would stop at that, just stop-

"He works faster than you and Bodhi ever did! He-"

"Bodhi has nothing to do with this!" a tired, but determined voice responded, shattering any resolve in Zed's last comment. All went silent; not even the new Bit that had occupied the garage (Kirk cringed after hearing one of CLU's jerks had derezzed an innocent Bit) froze, just hovering between Kirk's work station- which was truly Beck's… "when he was there", as Zed had grumbled- and Mara's station. Mara was the one who broke the unruly silence though, her fist slamming into her light cycle, the purple lights on it's rims powering down.

Kirk watched. Watched as she stormed past him, the Bit trailing her; she must've been the one who cared for it, cared for the little blue-grey-white beeping bundle of code. She seemed nice enough…

Kirk weakly stood up, still shaking from fear, but more from the lingering exhaustion. And all the questions…

Who was Bodhi?

Who was Zed angry with?

Why did Mara care so much?

And… why was the little voice in his head not talking today? He sighed… he felt lonely without it.

Another thing he couldn't explain… he felt he never truly would…

He glanced at the open office door and sighed, walking towards the elevators to the dorms, or… wait, why… he frowned at the blue-rimmed, black control or key pad or whatever that thing was…

The opaque covering slid over the transparent one and Kirk frowned deeper. There was a "down" button on the key pad; that… that wasn't supposed to be there…

or was it?

Before he could control his exhaustion-ridden hand, his fingers had brushed over the button. It flipped back to an "up" arrow.

A glitch.

All it was was a blasted glitch.

Kirk breathed a low sigh of relief, but he wasn't sure why. He sighed again, thinking back to the blow-up still echoing from the office… maybe some of the programs had left by now… he hoped so… "Hope Zed lightens up, too," he muttered, realizing, as the elevator clicked and started to rise, he'd never seen the program, though only knowing him a short time, this mad before…

What was going on?

* * *

Beck was sick of trying to… do anything.

He was aware of the fact that he was, yet again, swaying in exhaustion; Zed, the office, Mara's new Bit, Mara's turquoise eyes- it was all out of focus.

Which was why he couldn't see. Why he couldn't see Mara's glances of concern in his direction… or his circuits slightly fading… or the fiery glares from Zed.

"I could fire you, "Zed snarled, his position in Able's chair mirroring that of Able's own posture, except far more tense and there were green lights were Able had had none, except bright white ones. He hadn't even allowed- or voiced permission in any way- for Beck to have the chance to sit before lighting into his "friend."

Beck didn't flinch at those words; at least he didn't feel himself flinch at them. "Then why don't you?" he asked, his voice shocking Mara at how calm, evened out and… at how sad… it sounded.

Zed glared one more time, more fire in this gaze than before. "One. More. Chance," he spat, his teeth grinding, "That's it."

Beck shrugged, and, in an air of resignation which puzzled the enraged Zed and the already enigma-solving Mara, inquired tiredly, "Hey Zed, how's the turning radius on that bike? Any better?"

Before Zed could even blink, Beck was gone, limping ever so slightly towards the elevators, the garage thankfully empty now. But everyone had heard… they already knew anyway… what was the point?

Hung his head and sighed. Why had he said that like… like… He gave up thinking about it; he unconsciously pressed on the elevator door, letting it open, not noticing Zed and Mara watching him from around the office door as he palmed the elevator open until it was half open and stepped in.

The next thing he was vaguely aware of was falling into his slightly soft bed- these beds were never soft… not enough to relax if one was exhausted… which the program in the bed was never meant to be- and falling asleep, realizing just why he'd said that…

He had a growing feeling eating at him that the Renegade was not going to be fighting much longer...

* * *

_-once again, sorry for any typos... this week hasn't been the best, so... sorry :( just hoping it'll get better..._

_i'll get back to Zed's thoughts later- they're kinda... gonna get put on hold ;)_

_thanks, PrincessKai317 for reviewing :) the reviews mean a lot to me, so thanks, guys :) they don't have to be long- even a couple words... they mean a lot._

_God bless! :)_


	15. And These are the Lies

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine," Beck mumbled, repeating the same lie over and over…

"Who am I kidding?!" he muttered hoarsely as to avoid anything detrimental from slipping out of his mouth and floating through the walls so everyone else could hear… why were the walls so flimsy anyway? The whole garage- except their rooms- was sturdy enough to withstand explosions… but why?

Beck shrugged. "Whatever Able did when he built this place…" he stopped, laughing almost like he'd lost the last strand of sanity he had; it seemed like Able had coded and recoded and reinforced and added onto every inch of the garage to prove the structure worthy of being a doomsday shelter-

"I've finally lost it," Beck said to himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He knew he hadn't lost it; his coding wasn't messed up like that; he was just so exhausted that every thought made him do double take after double take.

Only wearing him out more...

* * *

**"Fight!"**

**Kirk heard the command, and knew that the forcefulness behind it was no joke or jest of any kind. But his arms didn't raise into a fighting position; his half- derezzed suit let the frigid air of yet another training room bite at him from every direction; his feet didn't shift so the left one was in front, the right ready to be slammed into the jaw of a program-**

**and this time, it wasn't an innocent.**

**This one… the twenty-third one. Kept count over the last three cycles. A Black Guard.**

**Kirk felt the dimly tinged darkness around him egg him on, but refused to move; even his breathing was surprisingly unnoticeable as he look up the the small white medical tiled square many cube lengths above his head and glared, shouting up in his cracked and parched voice, "I won't do it!"**

**"Fight!" was all he got in response.**

**Twenty-three programs had been placed in front of him…**

**and all twenty-three had lived.**

**He glanced up again at the box that he knew held a repurposed medic, his orange glazed eyes hidden behind a thick midnight mask that displayed his read-outs on his vitals. Kirk faintly heard the medic's rumbling voice as he simply stated, "He's exhausted, sir. He's gone without energy since his creation. He needs-"**

**A loud clattering of thousands of pixels echoed in the room, and Kirk grimaced, falling to his knees as orange cubes rained from the window, cubes… of what used to be the medic.**

**The fifth one since his creation to die.**

**"My fault…" he mumbled, the words bouncing around in his head before he could stop them. Maybe if he'd fought that first one… that first program… maybe-**

**"NO!" he screamed, not even realizing the word had slipped from his thoughts to his greyed and energy-barren tongue; he would've had to have strangled or beat the program to death, and he knew the doctors up above him were willing to join CLU…**

**CLU…**

**He couldn't bring himself to hate CLU… but he was horrified by his idea of perfection. His first moments in existence were frigid and of CLU kicking him without mercy in the ribs until he stood from where he'd been dumped in this room after his rezolution. He sighed, biting his lip, and stared at the Black Guard- this one would have no mercy, because none of the others did; the fresh wounds marring his bare chest and his covered legs were clear evidence that his hypothesis was proven, beyond any shadow of possible doubt, correct.**

**"FIGHT!" CLU thundered again. Kirk timidly glanced up at the now blurred yellow circuits on CLU's robe and helmet and shook his head, unwilling to kill a program. He'd been told it was okay to, that he was programmed for it-**

**but that…**

**that just didn't seem right…**

**He was so lost in trying to calm his wheezes for breath and how fast his coding pulsed under his skin, where it wasn't broken, that he didn't see CLU motion for the Guard… to let all chaos rain down.**

**Too late to react, Kirk was pinned to the ground, his bare back a clear spot for more damage. He struggled under the Black Guard, who for some reason looked nothing like the rest; more stun bombs on his hips; more of a spiked edge to the rims of his suit-built-in boots…**

**As soon as the program crushing his knee into Kirk's ribs snickered, Kirk twisted violently under him, throwing the Guard off and jumping dazedly to his feet. He felt the room tilt dangerously and nearly fell to the ground. Everything became a large haze…**

**what… what was going on?!**

**"FREAK!" the program belted out, his disc flying out at Kirk's face. Kirk ducked and fell, his leg twisting under him. He scrambled backwards, no other ideas in mind except surrender, and curled into a ball in the corner, his tall and extremely thin frame somehow managing to look almost the size of a Bit.**

**Kirk stared up at the program, his eyes widening in unrestrained fear. The helmet slid back to reveal a thin, gaunt face, so slanted and drenched in evil, that even his dark hair was leaking evil. "Scared of me?" the program cackled, his eyes rolling viciously. "I don't know why you would-"**

**the disc came flying down at his chest-**

* * *

"No!"

Kirk bolted upright, his head aching and everything tilting from the exhaustion…

Dyson…

that had been real…

he winced as his chest ached, his breath coming out in wheezes. The scars beneath the suit blazed in anguish from just the ignition from the memory; the many other scars also burned deeply, making him nauseous.

"It was only a dream… only a dream… a dream that was real," Kirk mumbled as he slowly stood up, the room not tilting as much as before. The energy he'd been downing regularly had only been a luxury in his eyes, a dream that after CLU slammed him for not having any aspects of life that a normal program would… he had never dared to dream.

CLU…

CLU was still looking for him, probably a price on his head…

"And here I am, at a place the stinking Occupation comes with their- oh, this is great!" Kirk groaned, throwing his head in his hands. "I'll be fine… everyone will be fine… as long as I just stay hidden from any soldiers…" Kirk smirked; for once he wasn't being fed a lie; he was feeding himself a plan that would work. Stay hidden… and no CLU…

not bad.

Not bad at all.

* * *

Beck stumbled on the way out of his room; a couple passing mechanics glared at him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Something was going to go wrong…

Capture? Hm… maybe.

His alter ego secret blown? Beck snorted, biting his lip in bitter humor. How Zed hadn't put the pieces together yet- or Mara for that matter- was insanely hard to wrap his weary mind around.

Tron giving up on him?

"That might happen," he mumbled, shaking his head in defeat. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. He was done, done caring about, well, everything.

He moved away from the wall, hoping Zed and Mara wouldn't show up just yet; he needed some time to get his mind to not care about any of the swirling mass of tension he was struggling not to drown in.

Studied the ground as he walked. The little strands of coded Grid dust were gathered ever so slightly in corners, and the blue floors were otherwise spotless… the way Able had always kept them-

Able. Beck smiled sadly. Able needed to be here… Bodhi too… he'd never missed work before becoming the Renegade. He…

He frowned… he couldn't remember anything farther back than knowing Zed, Mara and Bodhi… and working here… "Probably from getting my disc stolen," he muttered, that failure- that truly was not his- caused his head to throb more. "My fault… I screwed everything u-"

Something bumped into his back. Beck grunted, wincing as he hit the wall from the force of… not getting hit, getting dizzy. He wasn't mad, mores stunned. He twisted to see who had hit him-

"Kirk?!"

* * *

_-once again, i apologize for any typos... i haven't been doing so well lately- i'm exhausted... among other things that i don't really want to wind up bothering anyone else with. so once again, sorry for any mistakes :(_

_thanks, Pirateweasel, Briannajs-22, and PrincessKai317 for reviewing :)_


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